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The TRIBUNAL

Page 23

by Peter B. Robinson


  When the witness stopped the car, Bojanovic got out and began running towards the trench. Suddenly, a shot rang out. Bojanovic fell to the ground. The witness looked back towards where the shot came from. He had a clear view of Draga, just lowering his rifle. Draga and his men then stormed the trench where the Muslim Army was hiding.

  The witness was yanked from the car and thrown to the ground. He stayed there for about an hour while the Dragons launched grenades into the Muslim position. He heard screams from inside the bunker as explosions ripped it apart. When all was quiet, the Dragons stormed into the trench. All the Muslim soldiers were apparently dead.

  Draga came over to the witness after the fighting was over. He picked him up off the ground and dragged him to the body of Bojanovic. Bojanovic was clearly dead. “You two were very foolish,” he said. “But thank you for the escort.” He dropped the witness back to the ground on top of Bojanovic’s body, and left. The witness was taken by other Black Dragons and later turned over to the Bosnian Serb Army. He was transported by bus to the prison camp at Foca, where he remained for a month before being exchanged for Serbian prisoners.

  Bradford Stone looked at the judges, making sure they had understood every word of the witness’ testimony. “Were you ever a member of the Muslim Army?” he asked.

  “Never.”

  “Was Bojanovic?”

  “Never. We were just waiters.”

  “Is there any doubt in your mind that it was Draga who fired the shot that killed your friend the waiter?” Stone asked in conclusion.

  “There is no doubt. I saw it with my own eyes.”

  Stone turned to the judges, and removed his glasses. “I have no further questions of this witness.”

  Kevin was out of his chair, ready to start his cross-examination, but Judge Orozco called for the lunch recess. Kevin sat back down. He would have to wait.

  Diane went back to the office while Kevin dropped in on Draga in the holding cell. “Got a minute?”

  “Just one. I’m late for an appointment.”

  Kevin smiled. “Did you shoot that guy?”

  Draga looked at Kevin. “Hell, yes, I shot that guy. He was going to tell the Muslim Army the location of our operations.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was just like the witness testified. He’s told it exactly the way it happened.”

  “Why did you let them go?”

  “I figured they would lead us to the Muslim Army, and they did. We killed about 50 men in that bunker that night. Then the Bosnian Serb Army used it. It was a very strategic position.”

  Kevin was silent.

  “Was that a war crime?” Draga asked.

  “It depends on whether Bojanovic was an innocent civilian or a military person. This is what we call Monday morning quarterbacking. You make a decision in the midst of a war, then eight years later the lawyers are picking it apart under a microscope.”

  “Well, the witness told the truth. I’ll just have to accept the consequences.”

  “He didn’t tell the whole truth.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll see this afternoon.”

  “Well, speaking of quarterbacking,” Draga said, brightening. “What is our wager on the Super Bowl? The Giants are seven-point favorites. Will you give me the Ravens and seven points?”

  “Six points.”

  “You are a weasel. How much is the final wager? I need to make up my 70 Euro deficit.”

  “10 Euros.”

  “Oh, come on, for the Super Bowl. It won’t even make the game interesting to watch.”

  “What do you want to wager?”

  “A hundred Euros.”

  “That’s chump change for you,” Kevin said, laughing.

  “I know, but I figure it’s the most you can afford to lose.”

  “It’s a deal. You can have the Ravens and six points for a hundred Euros.”

  Draga and Kevin shook hands on the deal. “One more thing,” Draga pulled out a piece of paper with a large number of squares on it. “Do you want to buy a square in the prison football pool?”

  “You are incorrigible! You’re going to get three years for bookmaking on top of your war crime sentence.”

  Kevin went back into the courtroom. He double-checked his folder for the witness. The ammunition his friend Nihudian had gathered in Bosnia was there. A wave of sadness swept over him as he remembered the night Nihudian had died.

  Kevin sat down and went over again how he would detonate Nihudian’s ammunition that afternoon.

  “Good afternoon,” Kevin began in a friendly voice.

  “Good afternoon.”

  “Did I understand you to say that you were never in the Muslim Army?

  “Yes”

  “And neither was Bojanovic?”

  “That’s correct?”

  “Were you ever in any military unit of any kind?”

  “No.”

  “Was Bojanovic?”

  “No.”

  “At the time of this incident with Draga you were both civilians?”

  “Yes.”

  Kevin realized that he was repeating damaging information that Stone had already brought out, but he needed to close off all avenues of escape. He turned to the Court.

  “Your Honors, with the assistance of the usher, I would like the witness to be shown what has been marked as defense exhibit 2.”

  The usher placed the document before the witness and distributed copies to the judges and prosecutor. “Sir, this is a certified copy of an application for widow’s benefits filed by Bojanovic’s wife. Do you see her name there?”

  The witness studied the document. “Yes, I do.”

  “I’d like to offer defense exhibit 2 in evidence.”

  “Any objection, Mr. Stone?” Judge Orozco asked.

  “Well, Your Honor, we’ve just received this document. We weren’t aware of it before now.”

  “Very well. It will be admitted, subject to reconsideration if the prosecution lodges an objection.”

  “Thank you, Madam President,” Kevin said. He turned to the witness. “Do you see where Bojanovic’s widow stated that her husband had been on active duty with the Bosnian Muslim Army at the time of his death?”

  The witness’ eyes were fixed on the document. “Yes, I see that. But, I have not seen this paper before.”

  “I understand that. Do you know why Bojanovic’s widow would state that he was in the Muslim Army?”

  “Maybe she wanted to get some benefits from the government, I don’t know.”

  “That would be dishonest, wouldn’t it?”

  The witness shifted in his chair. “I guess so.”

  “Do you see where she signed it under penalty of perjury?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Are you suggesting that your friend’s widow committed perjury to collect benefits from the government?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you do know that Bojanovic was a civilian at the time of his death?”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “As were you?”

  “Correct.” The witness’ eyes darted quickly over to the prosecution table, and then back to the document.

  “Madam President, may the witness be shown defense exhibit 3?”

  Judge Orozco nodded. The usher distributed the document and the copies.

  “Do you recognize Exhibit 3?”

  The man sunk lower in his chair, his eyes fixed on the document.

  “I guess so.”

  “Why don’t you tell the court what it is?”

  “It’s an application for compensation for the time I spent at the Foca camp.”

  “Is that your signature?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you are applying for back wages from the Bosnian Muslim government for the time that you were imprisoned at Foca?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you see the part where you certified that you were on active military duty at the time
of your capture?”

  “Yes.”

  “You also signed this document under penalty of perjury, did you not?”

  “Yes.”

  Kevin paused to let the answer sink in. He asked his next question slowly.

  “So, which is the perjury, your statement in exhibit 3 that you were on active military duty, or your testimony in this courtroom that you were never in the military?”

  The witness looked at Kevin, then at Bradford Stone. Then he looked at Judge Orozco. “Do I have to answer that question?” he asked her.

  “You have a privilege to refuse to answer if the answer would incriminate you,” Judge Orozco replied. “You can also consult with a lawyer if you wish, and we can appoint one for you if you can’t afford one.”

  Bradford Stone and Charles Oswald were huddling with their team. Kevin was sure they were not pleased at having their star witness given his Miranda warnings by the judge. Kevin looked over at the witness, waiting for an answer.

  The witness paused, and looked over at the prosecutors. Finally, he said, “I lied on the form.”

  “So you committed perjury to your government?” Kevin asked, rubbing it in a bit.

  “Yes.” The man was still looking down.

  “But everything you told this Court was the truth?”

  “Right.”

  “You were never in any military?”

  “Never.”

  “And neither was Bojanovic?”

  “Right.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  The witness hesitated slightly. He took a slow breath. “Yes,” he said softly.

  Bradford Stone came to his rescue. “Madam President, these questions have now been asked and answered three times. I object.”

  “Objection sustained. Move on, Mr. Anderson,” Judge Orozco said.

  Kevin was more than ready to do so – in fact, he couldn’t wait.

  “I would like the witness to be shown defense exhibit 4,” he announced, pulling out one more folder. “May I approach the witness and show it to him myself. It’s a photograph.”

  “Very well.”

  Kevin handed the usher copies to distribute as he approached the witness. He stood next to the witness and placed the photograph in front of him. “Do you recognize this photograph?” he asked.

  The witness appeared to wince. He stared at the photograph of himself and Bojanovic with their arms around each other’s shoulders, wearing Muslim Army uniforms with rifles in their outstretched arms. The judges looked at the photograph, then at the witness expectantly. The prosecution team huddled around the photograph, whispering furiously.

  “Do you recognize this photograph?” Kevin asked again, looking down at the witness, just a few inches in front of him.

  There was no answer.

  “We got it from Bojanovic’s wife. We know a lot more, as well. I think it’s time you told the truth.”

  The witness did not move. He continued staring at the photograph.

  Bradford Stone tried to break the awkward silence. “Your Honor, Mr. Anderson should be ordered to return to the podium. He’s shown the witness the exhibit.”

  Without waiting for the Judge to respond, Kevin backed up, returning to his position, but keeping his eyes on the witness. Finally, the witness looked up at Kevin.

  “Your friend’s widow and children think he died for his people as a hero,” Kevin said softly. “Are you being fair to his memory?”

  Bradford Stone rose again. “Mr. Anderson keeps asking questions without giving the witness a chance to answer,” he whined.

  “Yes,” Judge Orozco said. “Witness, do you recognize the photograph?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go ahead, Mr. Anderson.”

  “I’d offer it into evidence, Madam President.”

  “Any objection, Mr. Stone?”

  Stone was back consulting with Oswald and the others. He did not reply.

  “Hearing no objection, defense exhibit 4 will be admitted,” Judge Orozco said tersely. “Continue, Mr. Anderson.”

  “This is a photograph of you and Bojanovic, is it not?”

  “It is.”

  “Were you and Bojanovic in the Muslim Army at the time of his death?”

  The courtroom was still.

  The witness looked from Kevin to the photograph, then he answered. “Yes.”

  Bradford Stone was once again on his feet. “Your Honors, I think the witness needs counsel at this point. Perhaps we should recess his testimony until he has an opportunity to consult with a lawyer.”

  Judge Davidson leaned forward on the bench. “We can do without your interruptions, Mr. Stone. Witness, you have just admitted to perjury before this Court on a most important point. You sat here all morning telling us you were civilians. Now, you are admitting that you were in fact in the military. We need to know the truth.”

  “We were in the military, Your Honor,” the witness replied shakily.

  “What were you doing near the airport that night?”

  “Looking for the Dragons’ headquarters.”

  “Did you tell this to Mr. Stone?”

  Stone was on his feet. “Of course he didn’t, Your Honor! We’re as surprised as you are. We’ve been sandbagged by the defense. They gave us no notice of these documents or the photograph.”

  Judge Davidson ignored Stone. “Did you tell this to Mr. Stone?” he repeated.

  “No.”

  “Where did you get the idea to claim you were civilians?” Judge Davidson asked.

  Kevin was now a spectator to the cross-examination.

  “Before the investigators asked me questions, they explained to me that if Bojanovic and I were civilians, they could convict Draga of a war crime. If we were in the military, then it was just part of the war. I wanted Draga to pay for killing my friend. So, I told them we were civilians. I didn’t know that all this would come out.” He looked down again at the photograph.

  “Mr. Anderson,” Judge Davidson said. “I don’t believe any further questions from you are necessary.”

  “I agree, Your Honor.” Kevin sat down.

  “Mr. Stone,” Judge Davidson said. The judge was clearly in control now. “You don’t have any more questions either.”

  Stone rose shakily to his feet. “No, Your Honor.”

  “The witness may be excused.”

  The usher quickly drew the blinds. The witness couldn’t wait to get out of the courtroom. When he had gone, Judge Orozco said, “I think we have heard enough for today. We’ll reconvene tomorrow at 9:30 a.m.”

  Bradford Stone leaped to his feet. “Madam President, I would ask that you order Mr. Anderson to provide us with copies of all of his exhibits. He’s being quite unfair.”

  “No,” Judge Davidson replied pointedly. “You know that the defense doesn’t have to disclose their impeachment in advance. You’d better warn your witnesses to tell the truth.”

  Kevin couldn’t help but smile. He looked down, trying hard to suppress it. He looked over at Diane. She was looking at him with pride. He looked back at Draga. He was reading the sports page. An admiring audience of one wasn’t bad, Kevin decided.

  Silently, he thanked Nihudian for the legal ammunition he had provided. Without it, Kevin knew he would have had great difficulty impeaching this very critical witness, and no chance at all of winning Draga’s acquittal – and Ellen’s release.

  He just wished his dear friend had been here to see it.

  CHAPTER 26

  At that moment, the trial of Draga was the furthest thing from the minds of the three kidnappers. They were doing chores in the barn when they suddenly heard the sound of a car coming down the road.

  “Quick!” Hans yelled to Anna. “Hide the girl!”

  Anna grabbed Ellen by the hand and led her to the back of the barn and one of the stalls for the cows. “Get down here,” she ordered sternly.

  Anna knelt down with Ellen; both were out of sight of anyone entering the barn.

 
Ellen, taken by surprise, started sobbing quietly. She hated being pushed around. Besides, the stall reeked of cow manure. Anna held her finger to her lips signaling Ellen to be quiet. Ellen obeyed.

  Hans went out to meet the visitor.

  Ellen could hear a car engine running. She looked through a small crack in the boards where she was huddled. She saw Hans talking to a man who was standing next to a pickup truck. The man handed Hans some papers, then got back in his truck.

  Ellen considered trying to scream, but then she thought about the basement and the rats. Anyway, she wasn’t sure the man could hear her over his engine. She watched him as he drove past the barn and back toward what she suspected was the main road. As the white truck passed she was able to make out the Dutch writing: “Province of Utrecht.”

  When the man had left, Hans returned to the barn and Anna stood up.

  “It’s clear now,” Jan said.

  Ellen stood up as well. “Who was it?”

  “None of your business,” Hans replied.

  “I don’t like it when you make me hide.” Ellen stepped into the open doorway of the barn, wanting to breathe the fresh air and see the sky. “I want my mommy and daddy. I miss them.”

  No one replied.

  Ellen sat down and played with Johanna. The puppy was licking her face and jumping all over her. “I’d like to write my parents another letter,” she said. “Would you send it for me?”

  “Maybe,” Jan replied.

  “I think I’ll go do that now. It’ll cheer me up.”

  “Okay,” Anna said. She followed Ellen into the house.

  Ellen went into the house, her head down. She sat at the table with a paper and pencil. “Province of Utrecht.” How could she let her parents know?

  When they had finished dinner that night, Ellen got out her letter and showed it to Jan. She had addressed an envelope as well. “Here’s my letter. You can read it. I followed all the rules.”

  Jan looked at the letter.

  “Will you send it? I’ll give you the money for a stamp.”

  “We’ll see,” Jan replied.

  “Here’s eighty cents.” Ellen took a small coin purse out of her backpack and counted out the coins. “We need to talk about an allowance. If I’m still here by Saturday, I think you should pay me an allowance.”

 

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